


we won't stop driving until it's safe

by greybird



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, ALL THE FLUFF, Aftermath of Torture, All the cuddles, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Torture, Captivity, Comfort, Couch Cuddles, Cults, Don't Have to Know Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Eventual Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Healthy Will Cipher/Dipper Gleeful, Hurt/Comfort, I just. I'm so angry that there is close to no healthy content for these two, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Morning Cuddles, No Sex, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rare Fandoms, Road Trips, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, The Healthy and Wholesome Greybird AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torture, Trapped, also, always searching for that comfort even if I have to make it myself, classic of me aint it, just cuddles, or as I like to call it, they're both asexual now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greybird/pseuds/greybird
Summary: I can count on one hand how many pieces of writing I've come across that show Will and Mason's relationship in a healthy way. Nearly everything portrays Mason as this heartless sadistic monster; and Will is cast as the 'crybaby weakling masochist' who supposedly 'likes' being locked up and beaten and tortured. The stories I've read here have physically brought me to tears. One line stands out to me: "He hurt me, and he'd never stop if I asked him to, but I think... I think that was his way of showing that he loved me. So that made it okay."It made me angry. Angry enough that I'm writing a whole-ass fandom fix-it, if you will. And I'm growing quite fond of it. I won't post anything until I'm finished with the whole story, but I figured I'd publish this as a placeholder. Bookmark/sub to this, if you'd like to see the story when it's finally posted (hopefully soon).-There’s a bridge that stretches across the border of Oregon, and it’s the closest and safest route that reaches toward Washington. Toward freedom. For over three and a half years now—he’s written it down-- the name of that bridge has been sitting in the notes app of Mason’s phone like a broken time bomb with a countdown that keeps restarting.
Relationships: Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	we won't stop driving until it's safe

[coming soon]

**_preview:_ **

There’s a bridge that stretches across the border of Oregon, and it’s the closest and safest route that reaches toward Washington. Toward freedom. For over three and a half years now—he’s written it down-- the name of that bridge has been sitting in the notes app of Mason’s phone like a broken time bomb with a countdown that keeps restarting.

_Hood River Bridge. November 26 th. Four A.M. Don’t stop driving until it’s safe. _

It’s at this point in time that the note is never deleted not because he truly believes it will happen, still, but because he can’t find it in himself to delete it. It’s useless, but necessary. _Useless_ because that bridge is only 58.2 miles away but exactly impossible to run to. And _necessary_ , because of nights like these.

From backstage, the spotlights are so bright that the only things Mason can see in the ocean of shadow that is the audience, is the reflection of light on a few sparse pairs of glasses. But he’s not looking at them anymore, anyway, not since after the intermission. He’s holding his phone in front of him, careful to stay behind a heavy curtain, trying not to watch what’s happening on stage. He stares at that note from three and a half years ago. Keeps his mind focused on the name and the date that he knows he’ll have to change again, and again, and again and again and again and he stares at it though the clicks of his sister’s heels, the stifled hitches in Will’s breath.

“Tonight, my friends, we have a certain treat for you.” Mabel’s voice is unmistakable. Sharp. Intertwined tones of festering bloodlust and cruelty in that voice are blunt and poorly hidden, but only if you know where to look. So, as it always has been, the crowd reads it as charisma. Mason doesn’t watch, and even if he did all he’d see is the back of her head while she faces the sea of shadowed faces, but he can _feel_ it when she smiles. “Now. How many of you have seen a demon bleed?”

The room falls to a distilled, intrigued silence. And after letting it sit in the air for a few long moments, the click of heels fills the room in echoes, until they stop. There’s a pedestal not far from Will, draped in a black cloth, displaying all the silver daggers that had been laid out in order from shortest to longest, perfectly spaced and shined and prepared by Will himself earlier in the day.

She takes one in her hand, lets it drag just slightly against the cloth as she lifts it with a touch of lethargy. _It’s been the same routine for a week now,_ she’d complained that morning. _Can’t we add something more? Something exciting? He can take it. I know he can._

The first knife whirrs in a perfect path. Mason twitches before it reaches Will, in the second between anticipation and horrible pain he knows Will can’t voice. 

Lights flicker. Will _flinches_. They’re all special effects, just parlor tricks, just the stage crew manually flipping the switch on and off repeatedly. But Will doesn’t know that. At least, not anymore.

Mason catches the searing glare she shoots Will through her smile. He clenches his jaw, swallows thickly. Returns his gaze to the note on his phone. _Hood River Bridge. Don’t stop driving until it’s safe._


End file.
